


Ripples

by levitatethis



Category: Heroes - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Reality, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-17
Updated: 2010-05-17
Packaged: 2017-10-09 12:52:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/87688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/levitatethis/pseuds/levitatethis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A touchstone of firsts as Mohinder and Sylar's relationship becomes something more the second time around</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ripples

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Mylar Fic June prompt 10 Words Challenge -- "Share"

For the longest time it remains a relatively one-sided affair. Actions that are not meant to be returned, other than antagonistically, carry on with a constant repetition laced with minor alterations in each occurrence. A push one way, a glare back, a taunting jibe met with a sarcastic utterance, glowering eyes halted by an unmovable stance.

The change over is quiet enough. So unassuming is the transformation into mutual affection that they do not notice it until it is upon them. It is a striking difference to the fondness belied of a false persona. Their second time around carries intensity in the blatant honesty that is frightening and compelling, and complexity is boiled down to the simplest equation.

The first returned smile happens in some backroom office in Detroit. Bennet is droning on with orders and Mohinder rolls his eyes for amused effect. Sylar smiles in understanding agreement and Mohinder grins back in an indelible secret language that exists between only them. The outcome of a growing familiarity, it innocently traverses unexplored territory; so deceptively straightforward is their beginning.

The first genuine laugh that flows between them occurs while they drive across the Peace Bridge into Windsor. Misquoted lyrics to a song playing on the car radio elicit mock accusations and an exaggerated faux defensiveness that leads to a half hour discussion about lyrical meanings on a social-cultural level. The song is remembered by neither after the fact, because in itself the song is not the important part, rather it is what the moment uncovers.

An accepted touch first finds its way amidst the stressed tension of a confining motel room after hours of fruitless searching for an elusive mark. Sitting at a desk pouring over dead end information on his laptop, Mohinder rubs his forehead in frustration. Sylar stands behind him resting his left hand on the back of Mohinder’s neck and gives him a gentle squeeze to encourage relaxation. Mohinder sighs and leans back into the touch, trying to draw any meditative qualities out of it as possible.

Five seconds later their first reciprocated touch comes as Mohinder pushes back the chair and stands up. Turning around he brings his left hand to the side of Sylar’s chest, grasping it softly, while reaching his right hand up on top of the hand Sylar still has on his neck. Mohinder gives him an appreciative smile and walks off to the bathroom. What was once avoided because of whom it came from becomes revered for the same reasons. In the lucid stillness resides the whispered confession.

It is a restaurant that unknowingly bears witness to their first unspoken I love you. A business lunch, as Bennet refers to it, with Peter and Matt stumbles about under unpleasant friction from a far too present past. To quell attention drawing contentiousness, Sylar heads to the washroom to give Mohinder time and the opportunity to talk one-on-one with friends who obviously worry about how he is doing.

After establishing a compromising middle ground Mohinder makes his own way to the washroom and crosses Sylar’s path on the way out. A dance of left and right keeps them in each others way until Sylar, grinning, firmly takes Mohinder’s shoulders and holds him still while moving to step around. A glimmer of amusement in two sets of eyes drops the smiles from both their faces once their backs are to each other. The two men ponder hazy steps away, lost in erratic possibility.

Their first kiss begins with such a drawn out pensiveness. Clearing up after dinner in the apartment unit set up through Bennet’s connections for when any of the team members need to stay in San Diego, Mohinder and Sylar move around each other comfortably but quietly. A cleaned dish in hand Sylar turns towards the cupboard and steps directly into Mohinder who is not paying attention. Mohinder’s shy smile is cut off by Sylar’s soft and awkward lips on top of his. When Sylar pulls back Mohinder takes the plate out of his hands and walks over to the cupboard to put it away.

Humiliated and angry, but mostly sorry for such an ill-conceived move, Sylar turns to apologize and is nearly knocked off his feet by Mohinder’s body pressing against his, hands on the back of his neck, and gentle and knowing lips luring his to follow. Their abstraction takes on a physical form and clarity is not far behind.

_I love you’s_ said out loud find their place at the end of a very long philosophical discussion about evolution, human migration and adaptability; the kind of conversation that feels most relevant at two in the morning when sleep is no more than a distant concept. Sitting in the car on a stakeout both would prefer to not be on, the words are not said as a powerful declaration but rather an unmeditated observation. “That’s what I love about you Mohinder—ever seeking the logical explanation for the illogical.”

Time comes to a jolting halt. Sylar catches the words only once they have breached the space but he knows he does not want to take them back. He watches Mohinder rest his head back against the seat and eye him contemplatively. “I love that you’re the only one who gets that,” Mohinder says thoughtfully, and in the restrictive space of a rental car a sense of freedom is felt for the first time.

New York City, the scene of the first crimes, takes on a newly coated layering. Sylar watches Mohinder drop his bag on the living room floor and head to the bedroom, disappearing inside but leaving the door open in invitation. Heavy steps bring Sylar to the room where he finds Mohinder sitting on the edge of the bed, slightly leaning back on his hands. “Close the door,” Mohinder tells him.

The first time they make love it is an exploration of extremes. Sylar is nervous and aggressive and Mohinder’s response to his every move is spectacularly arousing. Mohinder is encouraging and direct; he knows exactly what he wants with Sylar and does not hesitate to show it. In the entanglement of limbs, wet skin and panting breaths that follows, they reach the same awareness. They are made for each other.

Fully realized, separate individuals, the dawning of a new day brings with it the wonder of the unanticipated. Something that was never even a consideration before becomes an inarguable fact. Each man sees in the other the only person he has ever wanted to share a life with. It is not meant to make sense in any rational way, but in the mismatched collection of connecting ripples it is their own perfection.   
 

**Author's Note:**

> Heroes Slash Awards  
> **Nominated for Best One Shot** (RUNNER UP)  
> **Nominated for Best Romance** (RUNNER UP)
> 
> Mylar Fic Awards  
> **Nominated for Best Romance**  
> **Nominated for Best Build Up to a Long Term Relationship, Realistic**  
> **Nominated for Best Description of a Long Term Relationship, Realistic**


End file.
